Strange Bedfellows
by OrilliaOrange
Summary: Cassandra Pentaghast needs a new roommate. Trevelyan has a solution- Varric Tethras. Author, and general pain in the ass.
1. Chapter 1

The apartment was a small one, two bedrooms, one which had an ensuite bathroom, and a combination living room and kitchen. Despite that, it was clean and well taken care of. Cassandra surveyed the space, which had been hers and Galyan's for so long, and was now only hers. Without his things, the apartment seemed spartan, which suited Cassandra well enough.

Trevelyan's staccato knock broke the silence, and as usual Cassandra's best friend let themselves in. Trailing behind her was a man Cassandra assumed was the newest candidate for her roommate.

Trailing was probably the wrong word. It implied shyness, Cassandra thought, and the man who strolled into her apartment was not shy. Cassandra wracked her brain for the right word. Indolent. That was it. Possibly closer to smarmy.

"Varric Tethras," he said, holding out a large hand. Cassandra noted that she stood at least head and shoulders above him, though as Trevelyan was always quick to remind her, she towered over most people. Despite the difference in their height, his hand dwarfed hers. Thick, square fingers with neat nails, a distant part of her brain noted, dusted with fine, gingery hair.

Wait. Had he said _Varric Tethras_? The author?

Cassandra thought of the nearly complete collection of Swords and Shields novels sitting in her room, and blanched.

"Cassandra Pentaghast."

"Seeker! You're leaving out all the fun bits!" Trevelyan interrupted with a shit eating grin "Cassandra Filomena Calogera Allegra Portia..."

A quick glare from Cassandra cut Trevelyan off in the middle of their incorrect listing of all Cassandra's horrible middle names.

"Seeker?" Varric asked, clearly interested.

"Its a silly nickname" Cassandra said, shortly.

"She's a cop" Trevelyan spoke over Cassandra, "She's always lookin' for things. So, Seeker."

Cassandra grunted, annoyed.

"So Varric. _Cassandra_ has a room to let, you need a place to stay while you're here..." Trevelyan gestured expansively. "Not a bad match."

"When do you move the rest of your stuff in?" Varric asked.

Bristling, Cassandra shot him a dirty look. "I already live here."

"Wow. Love what you've done with the place." Varric's gaze swept the living room while Cassandra glowered behind him, feeling oddly defensive.

A quick look from Trevelyan silenced Cassandra's next remark. Trevelyan managed to convey in a look and a few discreet gestures that Varric was the only applicant left, and that Cassandra couldn't afford her apartment alone for much longer.

"Would you like to see the other room?" Cassandra asked, barely reining in her temper. Of course the author of her favourite series had to be unpleasant.

"Lead the way, Cassandra." Varric swept a mocking half bow, and followed Cassandra down the hall.

Any evidence of its former occupant had been eradicated. The walls were white, like the rest of the apartment, and the only window was covered by plain white curtains.

"Very inviting" was Varric's only comment, and Cassandra could hear the laughter in his voice.

Trevelyan jabbed Cassandra in the ribs, giving her a significant look.

"Of course you are allowed to decorate the room as you like." Cassandra said.

"Not a bad space." Varric looked the room over again, and seemed to come to a decision. "I'll take it."

Again, Varric stuck his hand out, a small smile curling his lips when Cassandra hesitated slightly.

"Congrats" Trevelyan said as Cassandra resigned herself and shook Varric's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Four months later, Cassandra found herself waging a small war against Varric. The man's possessions encroached. There was no better explanation. Small pockets of colour and clutter began appearing in the common room, making Cassandra seethe.

It wasn't that she disliked his possessions. They were interesting, a colourful knit blanket bordered with bright green leaves, piles of well thumbed books, a few framed photographs, none of which had Varric in them. That sort of thing. It was more that Varric's presence asserted itself strongly. There was very little of Cassandra in the apartment, except the austerity of the white walls. Which had been what she'd tried to achieve in the first place, having removed all Galyan's remaining things to charity shops, and painting the whole apartment white, but having achieved her goal, Cassandra found herself unsatisfied with the result.

As a roommate, Varric was otherwise the perfect specimen. He kept to himself, and did not often have friends over. Nor was he prone to leaving mess behind him, or any other obnoxious behaviour. As a roommate, Cassandra couldn't fault him, which made her irritated since as a person she found him frustrating. The man was alternately flippant and defensive. Any attempt to know him was met with a sarcastic remark, or if the timing was off, a harsh one.

So it was that they danced around each other, Cassandra's pride and temper often clashing with Varric's own pride and quick wit.

Not that he was smarter, Cassandra amended. Varric had a quicker tongue, that was all.

"Pentaghast, you finished that report yet?"

"I am almost finished, sir." Cassandra replied, glad that her computer screen was between herself and the Detective Sergeant.

"Hurry up and send the damn thing off, then head home."

"Sir, my shift's not done for another hour! Surely-"

"Weather's only getting worse, Pentaghast. Get home." the Detective Sergeant said gruffly, heading back into his office. Cassandra watched him go, and smothered a small smile.

Outside the station windows, snow was falling with surprising viciousness.

Frowning, Cassandra turned back to her report. Sometimes the words simply didn't want to work the way she wanted. While it wasn't enough of a problem to affect her work, her reports always left something to be desired.

Unsurprisingly the drive home from the station had been rotten. Every winter it was the same. People seemed surprised by the sudden snowstorms, and drove as though they'd never seen the stuff. After the third person fishtailed in front of her, Cassandra's temper was short.

At the apartment complex, Cassandra parked her car and fought through the snow (which was well on its way to being a blizzard) to the foyer, where the elevators were out of order. Sighing, Cassandra headed towards the stairs, dreading the smell and the fifteen flights of stairs ahead of her.

Finally reaching her floor, her mood no better than it had been on the ground floor, Cassandra was ready to fall into her bath, curl up with the newest chapter of Swords and Shields (Varric had let her know a package had arrived for her, that was the only thing it could be), and ignore the world.

It had taken some time to reconcile Varric-Her-Roommate with Varric-The-Author, but Cassandra had managed, mostly by forcibly ignoring the fact that they were the same person.

"You'd better go before someone misses you, Bianca." Varric said.

Cassandra stopped dead in her tracks. She'd never heard her roommate sound anything less than confident. He sounded lost, instead.

Varric stood in the doorway to their apartment, a young woman in a hooded jacket stood in the hallway, and made to touch him before deciding better of it. Without a word, she turned away and walked past Cassandra.

"I…"

"Leave it, Seeker." Varric said, turning away.

"Your girlfriend?" Cassandra hazarded a guess. It was so unusual to see Varric less than his usual swaggering self.

"I said drop it. Or are we going to start talking about our love lives?" Varric said. "Going to tell me all about your conquests, Cassandra?"

"I was only asking!" Cassandra defended.

"Hardly. It's not any of your damn business, Cassandra." Varric sneered, storming down the hallway.

Left in the pooling light from their open door, Cassandra stared after Varric, rage thrumming in her veins.

The urge to run after the irritating little shit was almost more than Cassandra's self restraint could take, and she took a few steps down the hall before reining her anger in. She satisfied herself instead with stalking into the apartment and kicking the kitchen table as she passed it on her way to her room.

At least now she had the apartment to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

"What!? NO!" Cassandra stared down at her book. Lemon scented steam wreathed the bathroom, candles guttering in their holders. No amount of staring could change the fact that her book had ended on a cliffhanger.

"Ugh." Thunking her head back against the tiles, Cassandra slid her book onto the counter and sunk down into the warm water.

One of the tea lights blinked out. Taking this as a sign she'd lounged in the bath long enough, Cassandra unfolded herself from the (somewhat small) tub and grabbed her towel. Despite the frustration of a cliffhanger ending, she felt much more relaxed than she had a few hours before.

Dry, and clad in a wine red robe, Cassandra drained the tub and padded down the hall to her room, taking a quick look out the balcony windows as she passed. Snow was falling fast and thick, almost obliterating anything more than three feet away.

Cassandra pursed her lips, unwilling to admit that she was a little worried about Varric. Hopefully he'd found somewhere safe to stay, it wasn't fit for man or beast outside.

Even if he could be an ass, no one deserved to freeze.

Visions of cars skidding off the road flew through Cassandra's head. In weather like this, it was too easy to slide off the road, or to get into an accident due to another driver's idiocy.

Without thinking, Cassandra picked up her phone. Stared at it. Put it back down on her dresser. Pulled her pyjamas on, picked the phone back up, and checked her messages. Cassandra's finger hovered over the last message Varric had sent her.

He was fine. Out at some friend's house complaining about his roommate, no doubt. Or at a bar.

It wasn't as though he'd never stayed out overnight before.

Cassandra brushed and re-braided her hair, then glared at her reflection in disgust as she picked up her phone and sent Varric a quick text before she could regret it.

Ridiculous. Totally absurd that she worried about the stupid ass.

Her phone lay on the dresser, silent.

With a sigh, Cassandra tucked it into her pocket as she did her nightly tour of the apartment, checking to make sure all the doors and windows were tightly shut and locked.

Retreating back into her room, Cassandra plugged her phone in and set it on the night table by her bed. Its screen lit up, displaying a new message dated a few minutes before.

Silent mode. Right.

**Varric Tethras** 12:55AM

Thx Seeker. U2

God damn the man.

Cassandra flopped back on her bed, angrily flipped her phone face down and gave it a dirty look for good measure.

"And that's the round, folks." Varric scraped his winnings into the already enormous pile in front of him, while his friends groaned.

"Cheating, dwarf." Fenris glared.

"That is hurtful language, Broody. I am hurt. Grievously." Varric intoned.

"Behave, you two. Even if Varric is a cheater, and short, there's no need for name calling." Isabela said.

"Pfft. You're just glad I'm around so no one notices you cheating, Rivaini." Varric rolled his eyes. "How many cards you got stashed on your person?"

"Want to come try and find them?" Isabela asked, lifting one dark eyebrow as she leaned against Hawke.

"Sorry, Rivaini. I'm taken, and so are you." Varric winked at Hawke.

Hawke considered Varric a moment, grinning at Isabela. "Dunno, be lying if I said I'd never thought about it."

"I need an adult."

Merrill laughed, bright and tinkling. "You ARE an adult, Varric!"

"A better adult, then." Varric took a swig from his beer, relaxed.

On the table, his phone lit up and vibrated.

"That is the most obnoxious vibration ever, Varric." Hawke said.

Varric picked up his phone, and felt his eyebrows climb off his forehead in surprise. It was entirely possible all the beer had messed with his vision, Varric thought.

**Seeker** 12:50PM

Stay safe.

"Huh." It was definitely Seeker, though why she'd wanted to send him a message at all was a mystery. Their texts were reserved for the usual roommate shit, and after their little spat at the apartment, he was honestly amazed she'd bothered to text him at all.

Thinking about that made him feel a little guilty.

"Good news, Varric?" Hawke asked, eyes sharp despite all the drink.

"Nah, just a text from my roomie. Nothing big." Texting back a quick message, Varric stashed his phone in his pocket. "How about another round? Let's make it a little more challenging this time, huh?"

"Your roommate still scary, Varric?" Isabela said.

"Terrifying. Put that card back."


	4. Chapter 4

Probably the worst thing about shift work was the way it messed with your sleep schedule, Cassandra thought, face buried in her pillow.

Outside it was still grim, with only the faintest hint of light to indicate that it was technically morning. The snow had stopped, and the snowplows were busy at work. Mostly that work involved making an almighty racket, Cassandra gathered.

Resigning herself to being awake, Cassandra fumbled for her phone, knocked one of her books off the bedside table, and cursed. Taking a peek at the time displayed in cheery numbers on her phone, she cursed again, picked up her book, and had to stifle a growl of irritation.

A cliffhanger _and _written by Varric.

Worse still, the most recent book had been published almost three years before. Cassandra _knew_ Varric had written other books. There had been two new Hard in Hightown novels since, and another on the way, according to a recent interview. Varric _had_ to be working on a new Swords and Shields, too. He just had to be.

With a sigh, Cassandra peeled herself out of bed. The apartment was quiet, which was a change. Usually she could count on the muffled sound of Varric's snores to break the silence.

For a small man, he made a great deal of noise.

Not that Varric was small. Certainly shorter than her, but most people were. Even some of the men in her platoon were shorter, and they didn't have Varric's broadness.

Moving through her morning stretches with ease, Cassandra worked through her usual routine until she was sweating and out of breath.

He was broad, Cassandra thought on her way to the shower. Not the kind of stature one achieved through laziness. Though she'd never seen him exercise, so how he managed that was a mystery.

Sorting through the clutter of bottles in the shower caddy, Cassandra found her shampoo, and made a mental note to ask if Varric could weed out what did and did not need to be in the shower.

That woman he'd been talking to the night before. Lover? That seemed most likely. If she'd been a family member or a friend, Varric wouldn't have been so defensive. Cassandra took a few slow breaths, calming herself. They had both said some cruel things. Tried to think objectively. A lover made the most sense. An out of town girlfriend, maybe? Regardless, Cassandra mused, they'd been arguing.

Not that it was difficult to argue with him. She and Varric argued as easily as breathing.

Back in her room, Cassandra dressed, picked up a book, and headed to the kitchen.

At least it was full day now. A grey, sleeting day.

Midway through breakfast, the front door creaked open. Cassandra stayed in her place at the table, book propped open. Varric's heavy footsteps paused in the entryway, his boots clattered to the floor, and Cassandra sighed. Within a few seconds, Varric appeared in the kitchen, dishevelled and damp. With none of his usual smoothness, Varric grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with orange juice, and drained it in one long gulp.

"Seeker. You're up early. Lying in wait to question me more?" Varric said, his voice gravelly. "Don't you need someone to be the good cop?"

"I am not planning on interrogating you, Varric." Cassandra said, pretending to read.

"No? Damn, there goes my morning."

"You are my roommate, Varric. Not a suspect." Cassandra closed her book, annoyed. "If this is about last night-"

"Do I get to question you about your love life, Seeker?" Varric asked, leaning against the counter. "Let me guess. Trevelyan? Pretty cute."

"We're friends." Cassandra answered shortly.

"Good for you." Varric's look of studied boredom made Cassandra's blood boil. "Seriously, no lovers? Nothing? Can't tell me you haven't broken a few hearts. Or are there only friends?"

"And the woman last night? A _friend,_ Varric? Or did I interrupt a lover's quarrel?" Cassandra spat. "Tell me, was she tired of listening to you insult her?"

"The fuck would you know about people, Seeker?" Varric snorted. "You couldn't even find a roommate without Trevelyan's help."

"You fucking _worm_!" Cassandra slammed both hands on the kitchen table, with enough force to send her glass spinning to the floor.

"Hell of a temper, Seeker." Varric quipped, stalking out of the kitchen.

Cassandra stared after him, breath coming hard. Slowly she sank back down in her chair, gaze fixed on a midpoint on the far wall. He was just so _irritating_.

Sunlight glittered off the shards of glass on the floor. Bitterly regretting her burst of ill temper, Cassandra found the broom and dustpan. Dumping the glass in the garbage, Cassandra washed her hands and decided to spend the day at Trevelyan's.


	5. Chapter 5

Seeker slammed around the apartment, and shut the front door with a crash that rattled the pictures on Varric's walls.

Just like her, Varric thought sourly.

Shooting a glare towards his door, Varric turned his ire towards his laptop, where the three sentences he'd managed to write in as many hours stared back, taunting him. Reviewing what he'd written, Varric scowled, and shut his laptop without bothering to save.

A sharp jab of pain burned its way from one side of Varric's skull to the other. Cradling his throbbing head in both hands, Varric bitterly regretted drinking past his limit the night before. For a few hours though, he'd been able to pretend that the biggest problem in his life was Rivaini cheating at cards and teasing him about his "scary cop roommate".

His scary cop roommate who'd been about three seconds away from jumping over the table and beating the shit out of him.

Not that he didn't deserve it.

Bianca's face, sad and solemn as he sent her away.

Seeker, angry and hurt. Eyes flashing, cheeks flushed.

Varric's guts twisted.

"I'm an asshole."

The silent apartment seemed to agree with him.

Spending the day at Trevelyan's had become spending the night at Trevelyan's. Josephine, Trevelyan's roommate, had come home armed with an open ear, a diplomatic personality, and red wine. All of which Cassandra had appreciated. Particularly when Trevelyan let something slip over the third bottle of wine. Something interesting.

The mysterious Bianca was Varric's ex girlfriend. His _married_ ex girlfriend.

Of course Trevelyan had clapped a hand over their mouth, appalled at their little mishap. After sending Josie an appallingly pathetic look, Trevelyan had sworn Cassandra to silence. While the revelation that Bianca was married was shocking, it didn't explain why Varric had been so angry. From what Cassandra could gather, Bianca had been married for several years, so the wound wasn't a fresh one. Unfortunately, Trevelyan and Josie hadn't let anything else slip, and Cassandra was loathe to pry.

With a lighter heart, and a battle plan, Cassandra shambled back home in the early afternoon, intent on a shower, a nap, and a civil conversation with Varric. Hopefully in that order. Instead, she found that Varric had absented himself from the apartment. However unconsciously, Varric was spoiling all of Cassandra's plans to reconcile. He was almost never home, and when he was at the apartment at the same time as Cassandra, any attempt at starting a conversation was met with some flippant response. Worse still was the feeling of being on eggshells around one another. There was a silence that hung in the apartment now, which sent Cassandra's temper skyrocketing. The man was practically moping, and it set her teeth on edge.

After she'd finally snapped at Varric, and he'd responded in kind, it was another three days before they'd calmed down, and Cassandra found herself missing the early days. When they'd managed to be civil, edging towards friendly.

It was entirely possible to live in an apartment with someone you didn't get on with, but that option was unappealing. Whatever could be done to bring them back to civility had to be done soon, Cassandra resolved. Before they lost the chance.

Cassandra's chance came late that evening- long past when she was usually asleep. Something had kept her from rest, and after lying in bed futilely hoping for sleep, Cassandra pulled on her housecoat and headed towards the kitchen for some tea.

Setting the kettle to boil, Cassandra fished her favourite mug out from the cupboard, and hunted around the countertop for the infuser, which seemed to be constantly misplaced.

The tins of tea arranged on the counter brought a small smile to Cassandra's face. Regalyan had hated tea, and had never understood how she could spend so much money on "boiled leaf water".

Bracing one hip against the counter, Cassandra watched her tea steep. One of her little indulgences- a strong chai tea from the specialty store downtown. It wasn't likely to lull her to sleep, but chamomile was an insipid, grassy tasting thing she refused to drink. A cup of tea was just what she-

Something on the edge of her vision moved. Cassandra jerked her hand back, and it collided with her mug. Scalding hot tea spilled over the edge, over her hand, and onto the counter.

"Your hand okay?" Varric asked, crossing to the counter with a handful of paper towels.

"I did not expect to see you." Cassandra said, as they awkwardly tried to move around the small kitchen space without touching.

"Sorry. Guess I fall under your radar, huh Seeker?" The small smile Varric gave her was the first such in days, and seeing it gave Cassandra a little warmth.

"I will be fine, after some cold water." Cassandra assured him.

"Back to punching bad guys in the face in no time, Seeker?" Varric said, a little of his usual humour peeking through.

Startled, Cassandra laughed.

One hand under the tap, Cassandra turned to look at Varric. He looked tired, slouched at the kitchen table. There was a strange sort of intimacy in being awake together when the rest of the world was sleeping. An air of vulnerability, particularly since they were both in their pyjamas. Varric's hair wasn't even tied back, falling in red-blond tangles around his face.

"I pried, before. I shouldn't have," Cassandra said into the silent kitchen. "I… you asked about my relationships."

"You don't need to…"

"Just. Listen. I… haven't had many serious relationships." Cassandra smiled, wryly. "My last was a man named Regalyan. 'Galyan was...he was a good man."

Raking her free hand through her short hair, Cassandra gave Varric a small shrug. "He died, in an accident shortly after we'd separated."

"Seeker. I'm sorry." Varric said, quiet.

"Thank you. It… it has been years. But it still feels strange, sometimes. To know he is gone." Cassandra broke eye contact with Varric. The kitchen was far too small a space, suddenly.

"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories, Seeker." Varric said, sounding much closer than he had before. When Cassandra turned around, he was standing behind her with a fresh cup of tea in one hand and a towel in the other.

"Here. This first," Varric offered her the towel, and returned it to the counter when Cassandra had dried her hands. "Your tea?"

"Thank you, Varric." Cassandra gingerly plucked the hot mug from his hands. Their fingers briefly brushed on the handle, and for some reason that felt important. "I didn't want to...interrogate you about Bianca. If I do, you'll know. There'll be handcuffs, a two way mirror, lots of yelling…"

Varric laughed, low and warm. "Sounds like a fun evening."

Cassandra found herself at a loss, having unaccountably been captivated when he'd laughed. Varric's whole face lit up when he smiled, and there were faint laugh lines etched at the corners of his eyes. They were grey, Cassandra realized. Grey, fringed with dark lashes.

"Good night, Varric." Cassandra drew her housecoat closer, feeling suddenly exposed despite her sensible pyjamas and robe. "Sleep well."

"You too, Seeker."

Cassandra hurried down the hall to her own room, and didn't see Varric's expression change to one of deeply entrenched grief.

Varric stared after Cassandra, and cursed himself. Their small kitchen felt like an exalted place, elevated from the mundane by her presence.

How often had they passed one another, sleepy eyed and pyjama clad? Why was it that this time was different? When was it he'd begun thinking of her as Cassandra, not Seeker?

Unbidden, the memory of Cassandra's profile in the kitchen's dim light sprung into his mind, haloed in soft gold like a medieval icon.

Absently, Varric rubbed at his breastbone, feeling a dull ache somewhere behind his ribs.

When Bianca had showed up at the apartment, he'd thought seeing her again would be the same as it had always been. That he'd feel that spark, that magnetism that had always drawn them together.

It hadn't happened.

Instead of solace, he'd only felt tense, and weirdly guilty.

Bianca had only looked at him, in that clinical way she usually reserved for interesting technology, which hadn't improved his mood. He'd felt like a bug under a microscope, instead of her lover. Something to be taken apart and examined. Sending Bianca away had felt like ripping a piece of his heart out, and if Seeker hadn't interrupted them, Varric was sure he'd have thrown his dignity to the wind and gone after her.

He was exhausted. Stretched thin. Despite fighting with all his strength to keep Bianca, letting her go had felt like taking a deep breath for the first time in years.

What did that say about them?

What did it say about _him_ that every time he'd seen Cassandra after that, he'd thought of how Bianca had looked when they'd parted. That sad, _knowing_ look. How all he'd been able to do was lash out.

How he'd been increasingly aware of Cassandra long before Bianca had come back. Her grouchy face in the morning, the way her eyebrows knit together when she was really concentrating on something. The way she smiled at her novels.

Scrubbing one hand over his face, Varric turned to leave the kitchen. In the hallway, light bled from under Cassandra's door, and Varric hesitated in front of it before opening his own door. Stupid. They were roommates, practically strangers and barely friends. One conversation didn't change that. Hell, it didn't even change the fact that they'd been at each other's throats for days.

Besides, Varric reasoned with himself, Seeker had only been apologizing, in her own blunt, honest way. Something he needed to do, too. Figured he was so fucked up after everything with Bianca that even Cassandra's awkward attempts at camaraderie had his heartstrings in a twist. A couple weeks, and it would fade. They'd be throwing darts at one another like pros again before the month was out.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N This chapter contains spoilers for The Princess Bride._

"Rough day?" Varric looked up from his laptop when Cassandra staggered through the door, looking exhausted. She was home later than usual.

Much, much later. Not that he'd been worried.

"Yes. Very." Cassandra said, simply. "There was an accident, on the highway. It was not pleasant."

Cassandra sank onto the couch, pulling Daisy's knit blanket around her shoulders without thinking.

"How do you do it, Varric?" she asked, "How do you find the right words? I couldn't. Nothing _fit._"

"Practice. Hanging out with Hawke, you really get a hold of what language can and can't do." Varric said, "The number of times we got in trouble as kids, and I was stuck trying to talk our way out of shit…"

"I envy you." Cassandra sighed.

"I am a magnificent specimen." Varric said, relieved when Cassandra chuckled. She seemed careworn, with the blanket Daisy had made for him wrapped around her shoulders like armour. It was so unlike her, Varric thought. Cassandra was nothing if not vibrant, forceful. Strong. To see her cuddled under a blanket looking wan was doing strange things to his insides.

"You look like shit." Varric said, barreling on before Cassandra could retort. "I _feel_ like shit- this latest novel is going nowhere, so we're ordering pizza and watching a movie."

"As long as the pizza has pineapples, I won't fight you, Varric." Cassandra said from the couch.

"You aren't? Sure you're not getting sick, Seeker?" Varric dodged a throw pillow, and grinned. "Pineapples on half okay or are you going to throw more pillows at me?"

"There's only one on the couch."

"Saved by our pitiful home decor."

"What movie did you want to watch?" Cassandra twisted around on the couch to look at him.

Taken by surprise, Varric's mind blanked. Tangled in his blanket with her hair mussed and sticking up, eyes sleepy, Cassandra looked… cute. That was not something he'd expected.

"The Princess Bride?" Varric blurted.

"The what?" Cassandra's brow furrowed. "I don't think I've seen that. What's it about?"

"What? Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles…" Varric said in his best Peter Falk impression.

Admittedly, it wasn't a great impression.

"It sounds… acceptable." Cassandra said, voice heavy. "I am surprised at you, Varric. A fairy tale."

"Seeker, have you read my books? The world's all about stories."

A little alert popped up on Varric's computer screen, confirming his order and promising that if their food took longer than half an hour to arrive, it would be free.

"Pizza will be here in 20, Seeker." Varric said, then quirked an eyebrow curiously when Cassandra didn't answer. Standing, Varric twisted a little to get a better look at the couch.

Cassandra was asleep. Curled on the couch, cocooned in his blanket with one arm cushioning her head. The fierceness of her face wasn't softened much in sleep, Varric noticed. Cassandra murmured sleepily, and burrowed her face into the blanket.

Sitting back down, Varric stared at his computer screen with a silly grin. He'd wake her up when the pizza arrived. Til then, he had a story that needed re working.

"Seeker. She doesn't die, you know." Varric said, while Cassandra stared raptly at the screen, pizza slice drooping and forgotten in her hand.

"Of course I know. I just cannot believe you chose this… childrens' movie, Varric." Cassandra snorted.

"I dunno, Seeker. You seem pretty into this _kids' movie._" Varric teased.

It was true, near as he could tell. Somehow Seeker had made it to adulthood without ever having seen one of the great classics, and that was a damn shame. Of course, watching her try to hide her interest was hilarious.

"Not in the least. I am merely humouring you." Cassandra said, biting into her pizza.

"Well if you aren't into it, we can always watch something else…" Varric said, reaching for the remote.

"No! That… That is not necessary." Cassandra blurted, eyes wide with alarm. "Ah. I…"

She stopped, and Varric looked at her curiously.

"I do like it, Varric. It is silly, and I suspect it will only be sillier but it is still an endearing movie." Cassandra looked over at him, clearly flustered.

"See, I wouldn't have pegged you as the sentimental sort, Seeker." Varric made an all encompassing gesture. "Badass city cop with a heart of marshmallow."

To his surprise, Cassandra sat up straight and scowled.

"They are not mutually exclusive, Varric! Romance, sentimentality, they are not the province of… of soft and frilly women! I see nothing wrong with having passion, and faith!" Cassandra snapped. "Is it so difficult to believe I might like such things? Or does being a 'badass city cop' exclude me from having a heart, or wanting romance?"

"Far be it from me to say you aren't a woman of passion, Seeker." Varric said, and winced.

They settled into a sulky sort of silence, while Varric hit play and Princess Buttercup found herself surrounded by shrieking eels.

More often than not, Varric caught himself watching Cassandra, instead of the movie. Not that that was strange, she just made interesting faces. Besides, showing someone one of your favourite movies was always nerve wracking. When Roberts was scolding Buttercup for her infidelity, a dark scowl wrote its way across Seeker's face, and deepened when Roberts was revealed to be Westley.

"Disappointed, Seeker?" Varric had to concede he was a little annoyed himself. "Hell of a way for a love interest to act."

"Despicable, controlling, lying little shit." Cassandra grumbled.

"I'll take that as a yes."

When the credits rolled. Cassandra was sitting bolt upright, blanket pooled around her waist. It was funny how seeing someone in a different setting could be so startling, Varric thought.

"Well, Seeker?"

"It was… not what I expected. Not good, but not terrible." she sighed, and Varric nodded his understanding.

"The bit where Westley threatened to hit Buttercup kind of cooled you on the whole thing? Same." Varric shrugged one shoulder, "Sorry 'bout that."

"We could try a different movie, some time." Cassandra offered.

"There's still pizza, and the night's still young. If you have any suggestions, I'm all ears." Varric said, lounging on his side of the couch.

Cassandra sat still, brows furrowed.

"Having trouble, Seeker?" Varric asked. Cassandra's brow developed another furrow. "Hm. A James Bond movie? Some god awful horror movie? With lots of blood and screaming?"

"There's enough murder in my life already, Varric" Cassandra said.

"So that's a no on any police movies, or suspense movies."

"I don't mind suspenseful movies. But at the moment? No."

Varric stared at the wall of DVDs. "Okay. That leaves… fantasy, sci-fi, action, and romances."

At the mention of romance movies, Cassandra's face lit up.

"Seeker?"

Just as quickly, Cassandra's expression closed off.

"It's later than I thought, Varric." Part of the blanket hit him in the leg. "I… it has been a long day. Good night."

Leaving Varric half buried in the blanket, Cassandra stood and made for the hallway. Briefly, she paused in the doorway and Varric felt a slight pull in his chest. As though there was a string fastened behind his ribs, and attached to her.

"It was a good movie. I enjoyed myself, thank you."

The quick suggestion of a smile, and she was gone.

Pulling the blanket Cassandra had been using around himself, Varric sat in the semi darkness, and turned on some brainless cop show. The blanket was still a little warm, with the scent of Cassandra's shampoo just barely present.

"Pathetic, Tethras. Absolutely pathetic." Varric muttered, curling under the blanket.

Cassandra shut the door to her room, and leaned against it.

Stupid. She was so stupid.

Why the hell had she run away?

She'd been having fun. With _Varric _of all people. It had been weeks since their talk in the kitchen, since she'd told him about Regalyan and why the hell had she said so _much_ about him in the first place? But things had been better between them, afterwards. She'd come home one night exhausted after over a week of midnights to find a tin of her favourite tea and a spill proof mug on the counter, along with a small note.

"I'm an asshole" wasn't the most straightforward of apologies, and Varric wasn't off the hook, but it was a kind gesture.

So why had she fled back to her room?

Cassandra looked at the shelves of romance novels that occupied the far wall of her room. Row after row of trashy, smutty, absurd, wonderful novels she didn't want to admit to owning.

Pride had always been her worst trait.

Shoving herself away from the door, Cassandra fussed around her room straightening up the sparse collection of photos, returning books to their proper place.

Hadn't she just told Varric there was no shame in liking romantic things? That she wasn't ashamed to love romance novels, or romantic movies?

Cassandra paused, one of Varric's novels in hand.

It wasn't shame. It was fear. Fear of the laughter that would follow if anyone knew of her guilty pleasure, if people knew she _longed_ for a fairy tale romance.

"Badass city cop with a heart of marshmallow" Varric had said. As though it was so difficult to believe she could be both romantic and tough.

The women in his novels never had such a problem. Their love interests always discovered the warm heart that beat under their tough exteriors, saw them as strong and powerful, and didn't assume that meant they didn't also need comfort and affection.

Thumping the book back on the shelf, Cassandra shot a frustrated look at the wall that separated their rooms. How could the man write such complicated, wonderful women and still be such an ass?

Quickly donning her pyjamas, Cassandra felt immensely grateful for the small bathroom attached to her room that meant she wouldn't have to go back out into the main apartment. Back out to where Varric was. Embarrassing as her sudden exit was, it would be worse to slink back out there and pretend she hadn't run away from her own roommate.


	7. Chapter 7

Early Saturday morning, there was a knock at the door, and Cassandra turned over, waiting for Varric to answer before she remembered Varric had gone out the night before. Whoever it was knocked again, and Cassandra cursed fluently before dragging herself out of bed, grabbing her robe on her way to the door. Halfway to the front door, the knock came again, rapidly, insistently.

Whatever Cassandra was about to say, she swallowed in favour of staring.

Varric was leaning heavily on the arm of a redheaded woman Cassandra vaguely recognized.

"Is that _blood_, Varric?" Cassandra said, eyes narrowed at the splatter of red across Varric's collar.

"Morning, Seeker." Varric said, attempting a small smile which reopened the cut in his lower lip.

Smoothly moving out of the way, Cassandra ushered them in and walked slowly to the bathroom to get their first aid kit. As the mirrored cabinet swung open, Cassandra caught a glimpse of her face, pale and strained.

"Aveline. I'm fine, stop fussing." Varric's voice floated in from down the hall.

"You are not fine! I can't believe you wound up-" Aveline stood up and clamped her mouth shut, as Cassandra entered the living room. "Aveline. Pleasure to meet you."

"Cassandra." Shaking the woman's outstretched hand, Cassandra shot her roommate a look. Varric looked ready to interject with her middle names, and despite his impressive black eye, and the blood dribbling from the cut on his lip, Cassandra wasn't prepared to give him any slack.

"I feel like letting you two meet was a bad idea." Varric said from the couch.

"You should've thought about that before you wound up in a bar fight, Varric." Aveline said. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Not the face, not the face?" Varric smiled, and winced as both women turned to glare at him.

Cassandra dropped the first aid kit in Varric's lap.

"I have to get back to work," Aveline said, sending an annoyed look at Varric. "Sorry for waking you up."

"Love you too, Red." Varric waved from the couch.

Aveline studied Cassandra for a moment, then smiled. "Aveline Vallen, Staff Sergeant, 14 division. Let me give you my number and my sympathies for having Varric as a roommate."

"Cassandra Pentaghast. Detective, 52 division. I appreciate the sympathy." Cassandra said, smiling.

From the couch, Varric groaned. "This was definitely a bad idea."

"Staff Sergeant… Aveline. He wasn't booked?" Cassandra asked, in a low voice.

"No, showed up at the station with a black eye, bloody nose, a split lip, and a box of doughnuts, the ass." Aveline rolled her eyes.

Cassandra sent Varric a dark look which he pretended to ignore, and let Aveline out of the apartment.

Standing in the hallway, Cassandra watched Varric fumble open the first aid kit, and almost went back to bed. In the washed out early morning light, Varric looked terrible. Blood had dried in his stubble, on the collar of his usually impeccable shirt, and the black eye emphasized the shadows under the other eye. Red marks of fading injuries marred Varric's cheeks, and Cassandra's eye kept catching on his split lip.

"You're an idiot." Stalking back to the couch, Cassandra sat down next to Varric and flipped the lid of the first aid kit open.

"Not going to ask what happened, Seeker?" Varric drawled. Under the mint of his breath was the hint of old beer.

"I know what happened, Varric." Sorting through the kit's contents, Cassandra shot Varric a dark look. "You lost a bar fight."

"Not necessarily true. I could've _won _a bar fight."

"No one wins a bar fight, Varric." Cassandra said, "Stay there."

Standing, Cassandra paced into the kitchen, washed her shaking hands in the sink, and dried them on a clean towel before filling a bowl with warm water and arming herself with paper towels. Rejoining Varric in the living room, Cassandra sat down next to him and set the bowl in his hands.

"Aveline already-" Varric stopped talking at the dark look Cassandra sent him. "Never picked you for the Florence Nightingale type, Seeker."

"Never thought you were the type to start bar fights, Varric." Cassandra said sharply.

Any further smart remarks Varric might have made were stopped short when Cassandra pressed a warm, wet paper towel against his split lip. It stung like hell, but Cassandra's fingers were soft and warm against his jaw.

Cassandra tilted Varric's face towards the light, examining the cut across his lip. "It should be fine. Try not to smile. As for the rest…"

Light caught against the red gold stubble on Varric's cheek, while his stubble prickled her fingers, Varric's skin was warm. Whoever he'd been fighting with had hit hard, Cassandra thought, angrily.

Leaning in closer, Cassandra scrubbed dried blood from behind Varric's ear.

"Did you take a hit to the head?"

"Seeker, look at me. I took a few hits to the head," Varric laughed grimly.

Face screwed up into an angry frown, Cassandra slid her fingers into Varric's hair searching for any injuries.

Varric let out a sharp hiss as Cassandra's fingers found a scab.

"There does not seem to be anything beyond a lump and a scab, Varric," Cassandra said softly, smoothing Varric's hair back down. It was soft under her fingers, silky. Sitting so close to one another, Cassandra noticed that his eyelashes were ginger too, and the beginnings of crows feet sketched in around his eyes. His left eye was swollen almost shut, the bruise already turning an ugly purple green.

With more gentleness than she felt, Cassandra rinsed the small cuts on Varric's face, dried them, and spread a thin layer of antibiotic cream on them.

"That's everything," Cassandra said lowly, examining Varric's face to make sure she'd not missed anything. Varric's leg was pressed against hers, and her hand still rested on his shoulder. Which had seemed impersonal when she'd been treating him, but now…

Varric offered her a small half smile, and Cassandra's heart fluttered ever so slightly.

"There's ice in the freezer for your eye." Cassandra said roughly, repacking the first aid kit. "I'm going back to bed."

Varric's guts churned in a way that had nothing to do with overindulging in alcohol. "Working tonight, Seeker?" he asked.

Cassandra looked tired, her eyes half open. Standing, she grunted assent, and made her way to the hallway, staggering slightly.

The door to her bedroom slammed shut, the noise echoing through the empty apartment and sending a shock of pain through Varric's aching head.

"Fuck," Varric said into the silence, grimacing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cassandra splashed water on her face in the station's bathroom, and frowned at herself. Shadows under her eyes, sallow looking skin, unimproved by the bathroom's yellow lighting. At least her shift was almost over. Making a pit stop by the Youth Bureau's somewhat illegal coffeemaker, Cassandra promised to bring them doughnuts the next day in return.

The Youth Bureau's jet fuel left a sour taste in Cassandra's mouth, but it livened her up enough that she finished her work on time. The second Cassandra's shift was done, she dragged herself up from her desk, and went through her end of shift routine on autopilot.

Thankfully the drive home was easy, the late hour meant few drivers were on the road. Something for which Cassandra was profoundly grateful.

Leaning against the cold metal of the elevator, Cassandra watched the floor numbers tick upwards, almost hypnotized by the changing numbers. When the door pinged, Cassandra stared blankly for a moment before realizing she was at her floor.

"Shit," Cassandra muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag and thinking longingly of a warm shower and her bed. Maybe a cup of tea, and a sandwich if she could stay awake long enough.

Pausing in door, Cassandra stared at the dark, empty livingroom. Not even the kitchen light was on. Varric was asleep, then. Probably still sleeping off the excitement and excess of the night before, Cassandra thought wryly.

Heaving a sigh, Cassandra padded down the hallway towards her bedroom. A strip of light glowed beneath Varric's door. Hesitating in front of it, Cassandra found herself debating whether to knock. To see if he'd recovered from his fight, she told herself.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Cassandra knocked on Varric's door.

"He's probably asleep, or listening to music, or something," Cassandra muttered, about to turn away.

"Seeker?" Varric's door opened, and Cassandra forgot what she'd been about to ask.

There was quite a bit of broad, well muscled, hairy chest on display.

"You are well, Varric? I hope I didn't wake you," Cassandra said, pulling her gaze away from her roommate's chest.

"Nah, I was up writing. Do a lot of my best work at night," Varric shrugged, closing the robe he was wearing over a pair of pyjama pants.

"And yeah, I'm fine more or less," Varric said, waving at his black eye, "Thanks again, Seeker."

"It was nothing," Cassandra said, sleepily, "Try not to get in any more fights when I'm working."

"I promise to only get my ass kicked on your days off, Seeker," Varric said with a grin.

"Good," Cassandra murmured, "I'll… I'm going to bed. Good night, Varric."

Offering Varric a sleepy smile, Cassandra turned and unlocked her own door, unaware of her roommate's soft expression as he watched her stagger into her bedroom.


End file.
